By Jim Doran
For Zadie, the first ninety-nine steps under the oppressive canopy of nighttime Pennsylvania woods were hard enough. The air was still and stagnant, and only thin shafts of moonlight pierced the darkness. But at the hundredth step, Zadie hesitated and took a deep breath. She had reached the point where she would have to veer off the well-trod path and onto Twisted Cypress Way—a place of legends even in the enlightened year of 1834.
A hand settled on her shoulder. Zadie screamed and stumbled backward against an elm tree. The hand belonged to her neighbor, Hugo. Straw hat, grungy shirt, and suspenders holding up his patched-together breeches, Hugo whistled through his missing front tooth. “Poor Zadie. Always a-scared of somethin’.”
Zadie wagged her finger at him. “You would be too if someone came creeping up on you like that.”
Yet, his taunting stung. And Zadie recalled her grandfather Baxter’s words from earlier that day. Zadie, it’s not your fault you’re afraid of everything.
“I was finishing up chores for your pa behind your house,” said Hugo. “And I saw you, Zadie Miller, a girl who’s spooked by spiders and darkness and horses and any little thing, go marchin’ into the woods. Was you thinking of going on Twisted Cypress Way? The home of the wendigo?”
The word “wendigo” turned Zadie’s backbone into ice. She gulped. “So what if I was?”
“Because you’re too lily-livered to go in that direction.”
Zadie gazed longingly down the path toward her farm. She could still race back to the warmth and comfort of her home. But she had to travel down Twisted Cypress Way. Her grandfather had explained it to her that afternoon. Zadie, it’s not your fault you’re afraid of everything. It’s mine.
Heart hammering, Zadie turned toward Twisted Cypress Way. “I’m going to visit my pa Baxter. Don’t you follow me.”
Secretly, she hoped he would accompany her anyway.
To prove she meant what she’d said, the girl advanced a step—the hundredth–onto the side trail. She crept forward, hearing the branches behind her rustle. Looking over her shoulder, Zadie spied Hugo.
“I figure someone oughta look out for you,” he said, now with a twig between his teeth.
Her grandfather had mentioned nothing about going alone. Would she lift the curse if he tagged along?
I crossed a witch when I was younger, and she cursed me and my descendants. In particular, you. I’ve had to overcome my own trial to defeat the hex. Now it’s your turn.
A sense of desperate determination to lift the curse drove Zadie along the trail. Unseen creatures skittered along the forest floor. Chill breezes ran spectral fingers down her arms. But she ignored the noises and focused on what Pa Baxter had told her earlier.
The curse affects each generation differently. Last night, I dreamed of the witch, and she told me the curse stole your bravery, Zadie.
The witch had also suggested a cure. Zadie must travel along Twisted Cypress Way from her house to the edge of the woods under the light of a full moon. It was the only way to lift the curse.
“Hey.” Hugo halted. “What’s that?”
Zadie’s breath caught in her throat, but she forced herself forward, leaving him behind.
He whispered, “Looks like two fireflies side-by-side.”
“Stop trying to scare me, Hugo!”
“I’m not. Them buggers could pass for eyes. I’ll pluck ’em out of the air and show you. They—ulp.”
Zadie stiffened at the sound of the boy’s choking. Was Hugo playing a prank, or was he in danger? Pa Baxter had once suggested she could “read hearts.” And she knew, despite Hugo’s teasing, his heart was in the right place.
Trembling, she turned around. A seven-foot tall, emaciated beast with antlers and a snout dripping drool glared back at her. It growled and shook. The creature’s claw was wrapped around Hugo’s throat, strangling his voice.
The world started spinning. Zadie pressed her fingernails into her palms to keep from fainting. Despite a powerful urge to run, she stood transfixed—too terrified to move.
Zadie shivered uncontrollably when she locked eyes with the behemoth. Bloodshot, pupils shining. Yet… something else was mixed in. Something unexpected.
You see the heart, Zadie.
The wendigo was scared, and its eyes reflected that inner terror. Its inhuman growl now sounded frightened—a louder, lower-pitched echo of Zadie’s whimpering.
“Hugo didn’t mean to threaten you.” Zadie’s voice quivered. “Please, release him.”
The wendigo stepped back, dragging Hugo with it.
She tried again, straining to remain calm despite the fear roiling inside her. “Let him go and we’ll leave. We won’t hurt you.”
Did it understand English? It couldn’t… Yet her soothing tone seemed to calm the beast.
The creature blinked, released Hugo, and disappeared into the forest.
Hugo fell forward on his knees, panting. Zadie helped him up, and he stared wild-eyed at her. “Let’s go!” he gasped.
They ran the rest of the trail—Zadie as frightened as ever. Darkness surrounded her. Who knew what other legendary monsters might cross their path? Her trek through the forest had not worked. Zadie’s anxiety still plagued her.
As they breached the tree line, Hugo stopped and doubled over. Zadie halted too, tears rolling down her cheeks, chest still heaving. Facing the wendigo hadn’t removed the curse. She was doomed to spend her life with this millstone around her neck.
When Hugo caught his breath, he lifted his head and smiled at her. “Zadie Miller, I’m goin’ to tell ev’ryone you’re the bravest girl in the county.”
She stared at him. Hugo may not be able to read her heart, but surely he could see that her hands were still shaking. Yet a thought crossed Zadie’s mind. The first step had broken the curse, not the hundredth, nor even facing the wendigo. The first step had made all the difference.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Wonderful presentation of how growth happens… by necessity
Thank you very much. I find that true.
Powerful lesson! Excellent story!
Thank you!
Great read and a great lesson here! Thank you! :)
Always great to collaborate with you, my friend!
I know I like it when it leaves me disappointed that it’s over, and I sure was. And kudos to you for putting up with an autocorrect that must’ve wanted to ‘fix’ Zadie to Sadie everytime you wrote it. We’ll done.
Any time I get to put “lily-livered” in a story, I’m having fun. And Zadie was a popular name in this time period. It should make a comeback.
Wow! I love your short stories. I felt like I was right there with them. And the moral of this story hits home. Great work.
Thank you so much.
I really appreciate the character development in this story. Such vivid descriptions too. Nicely done.
Really appreciated given you’re such a good author.
Greta story about growth and bravery!
Thank you so much.
Three cheers for Zadie!
She’s one of my favorite characters.
Nice inspirational message in a cool, creepy setting!
Wow, that last line hits hard. Great job!